Perfect Pranks
by Reun
Summary: Our favourite demolition duo stumbled upon a motherlode of practical jokes on the internet. How would the two little pranksters handle the sheer amount of interesting information they just acquired? Read on for the ensuing hilarity and, of course, mayhem!
1. A Fateful Discovery

_Author's Note: This is my first attempt in creating a fanfiction. Reviews are greatly appreciated! I will eventually post the next chapter, so stay tuned. Also, the Hacked Calculator Prank video mentioned in the story is real, and is pretty much the very reason this fic was conceived. Because it would kind of ruin the fun if I elaborate every detail of the video, take a look at it yourself if it interests you. It's by kipkay._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT and its characters, YouTube, the pranks, and Machines of Malice and its torture methods._

* * *

><p>It was Saturday, the second last day of the year, and a fine one in West City. The sun was shining gently, the air was cool, and with the ground completely covered by snow, kids and adults alike could be seen engaged in snowball fights on the streets. All in all, it was a normal day as any others that had passed since the Majin Buu incident nine months before…<p>

… except for two certain Saiyan hybrids. They didn't have an entry for the word 'normal' in their dictionary; the closest approximation would seem to be 'boring'. Boredom was exactly what the two felt at the time, and it was an understatement.

"Truuunks, I'm hungry," said the younger hybrid to his best friend. His legs were on the bed, but his upper half was dangling over the edge. In this awkward position, he continued to devour the cream puffs Mrs. Brief had made for them.

"You're kidding me, Goten. You've eaten at least thirty of those!" the lilac-haired boy snapped, but his eyes stayed glued to the computer screen and continued to get rid of unwanted mails in his email account, "Gah, clearing up the inbox is boring… I shouldn't have subscribed to these dumb newsletters."

Interested in what had stolen his partner-in-crime's attention, the younger of the duo abandoned his puffs and hovered in the air by the computer. "Whatcha doing?"

"I'm trying to delete all these stupid emails," replied Trunks. Goten watched as he marked the unwanted emails, clicked the Delete button, and sighed when another set of unread promotion emails made their way from the next page and reared their ugly heads. "Aaaah! These things just keep coming and coming!"

Mark. Mark. Delete. Sigh. Mark. Mark. Delete. Another sigh. Goten quickly lost interest in this activity. He for the life of him would never be able to figure out why Trunks was so immersed in pointless clicking, so he returned to the bed and assumed the weird position he had been in before. "I'm booored. When are we gonna have fun?"

At the mention of the word 'fun', Trunks's mood lightened a little. "You know what? Screw this," he said while clicking the Mark All option, then Yes when asked if he wanted to mark all conversations in the inbox, and finally Delete. Without a single email left—not even important ones he had saved for future references just in case—his inbox was emptier than the Hyperbolic Time Chamber would ever be. "We're gonna pull some pranks! And it's gonna be legendary! C'mere, Goten."

"I dunno, Trunks," hesitation was present in Goten's voice, "Last time we did that, we ended up cleaning the bathroom!"

Trunks flinched as he recalled the aftermath of their latest prank. They had flushed a Dragon Ball-sized clump of C4 plastic explosive stolen from Capsule Corp's Ballistics and Demolitions Lab down the toilet and detonated it when Vegeta was conveniently doing his business. Needless to say, the poor prince was nowhere near pleased with this, so he punished the demonic duo by having them clean the bathroom—which looked like it had been painted brown, and it certainly wasn't a pleasant sight—of the chocolaty goodness that clung stubbornly to the floor, walls, and ceiling. And that didn't include the foul mood the full-blooded Saiyan would be in for the rest of the week, thanks to this particularly nasty smell which just refused to be washed off.

"Uh, yeah. I think we went too far on that one," he shuddered at the mental image of scraping all those things that didn't belong outside the toilet bowl off the tiles. He'd choose being beaten into a pulp any day over punishments of that kind. "But this one's gonna be worth it. I promise!"

Knowing that his best friend would stop at nothing to get him involved in his increasingly amusing antics, Goten sighed in defeat and approached the computer. Trunks typed "gadget hacks and pranks" in the search box, and a multitude of results showed up. "Look, Goten! This one's got a video. Let's check it out," he clicked a link that said "Hacked Calculator Prank!" and was brought to YouTube.

Both boys watched intently at the video that was playing on the computer screen; basically, it showed how to wire a recording machine's speaker to a calculator. Goten looked a bit worried when it showed the part requiring manipulative and technical skills such as screwing, soldering, and wiring the circuits, but Trunks assured that he had the necessary expertise to get the job done. "Hey, I'm the son of the smartest engineer in the planet! That's child's play for me," he boasted.

When the video ended, Goten started chuckling. He had become extremely enthusiastic to carry out this prank. He had one concern, though. "Do you have a recording machine like that, Trunks?"

"I think mom gave me one for my sixth birthday," he walked over to his bed and pulled a rather large plastic container from underneath. On it was pasted an adhesive label with a child's barely recognisable handwriting that read "Trunks and Goten's things". "It should be somewhere inside. Help me look for it, will ya?"

After ten minutes of rummaging through Trunks's paraphernalia, they finally found what they were looking for. It was a silver-coloured box with three buttons: record, play, and reset. Trunks pressed the play button to test if the gadget was still working, and it responded in an annoying high-pitched voice second only to Android 19's, "Test message one."

"Cool!" Goten delighted at the technological marvel in front of him, "So we're gonna connect this to your calculator? What are we recording?"

The eldest brainstormed for a while, then with a crazy smirk he said, "I think I know just the right thing." He proceeded to disclose his ultimate plan to Goten, and both boys giggled insanely when Trunks concluded his presentation. Time to begin the construction phase!

* * *

><p>After an hour of tinkering around with stuffs only engineers would probably make sense of, their little hacked gadget was finally prepared. Goten's eyes were still full of tears from laughing at the absurdly hilarious recording they had done earlier. When he had calmed down, they tidied up the lab and returned everything to its rightful place out of fear of getting busted for trespassing and using Bulma's tools without permission. All things done nicely, they got out, shut the door quietly, and finally it was time to bring their plan into life.<p>

"You ready, Goten?" asked the self-appointed operation lead.

"Yeah," replied his accomplice with determination.

"Okay, let's do this. Commence operation."

Pink Panther's theme played in their collective mind as the two troublemakers strolled down the hallway and headed to the living room. Trunks peeked inside and found his parents watching the TV. Perfect! They were ready to reap the rewards of their hard work.

"Mom, can you help me do a quick calculation? Goten asked this question and he wants the answer very badly, but it's too hard for us to figure out," holding the tweaked calculator and scratching his head, Trunks called out to his unsuspecting mother.

"Sure, what is it, honey?" the bluish green-haired mother shifted her attention to the two little kids who were standing in the doorway.

"You still remember when we posed as Mighty Mask in the world championship?" asked Trunks again.

"Oh, that time! Yes! I didn't know it had been you two all along when Eighteen sliced the guy in half! I was disappointed for a moment there because killing would result in disqualification," she started rambling as though something inside her head had been revved up, "and I didn't want that shameless sham of a man Hercule to emerge as the champion! But then it was you two who got disqualified! But darn, why did Eighteen have to throw the match? I'm sure she had her reas—"

"Woman, stop blabbering and just answer the question!" Vegeta growled from the couch. He looked nothing short of annoyed by the ruckus. "Don't you know I'm trying to hear what the narrator is saying here?"

"Calm down, Vegeta. I was only reminiscing," she shot him her best death glare even Broly would envy.

"No one tells me, the Prince of All Saiyans, to CALM DOWN!" he roared.

"Well, the Princess of All Saiyans does," Bulma retorted, "Either you calm down, or have a free set meal consisting of no bed, no sandwiches, and no gravity room for the rest of the week."

Vegeta never seemed to remember that his mate always had at least one trump card up her sleeve. He frowned, muttered not-so-good words under his breath, and returned his attention to the show Machines of Malice which was showing on the TV. 'These earthlings have some interesting methods of torture. I must take note of some of these in case Trunks and that brat of Kakarot dare to misbehave again,' he thought to himself, an evil smirk gracing his lips.

"So, what is it that you want to ask?" her mood shifted from cross to jovial faster than Goku could complete an Instant Transmission.

"Well, you see, Auntie Bulma," it took everything in Goten to keep himself from cracking up at the outcome of this conversation, "if Trunks and I put on that costume again and train in a planet with 100 times normal gravity, what would be the force exerted by our bodies against the ground?" Goten didn't even know what gravity and exertion meant, but for the sake of the success of their plan, he managed to pull it as innocently and convincingly as possible.

"Trunks, you should be able to help Goten with that," Bulma gave her son a strange look, "You even know how to calculate the force of attraction between two celestial bodies!"

"Uh, um, yeah!" Trunks had to come up with an excuse. Desperate, he couldn't think of any, so he ended up with a very lame one, which he hoped his mother would buy. "But mom, I haven't reviewed anything since before the last tournament! The knowledge has epavorated from my brain!" he attempted to make it more dramatic by throwing his hands in the air.

"Evaporated, honey," she corrected him, then smiled weakly, "Well, alright. I'll help you this time, but you'll need to hit the books again after the winter break. So, what's your mass as of now?"

He winced at the prospect of studying, but said nothing in defence and answered his mother nonetheless. The world didn't need another Gohan… but he'd pay any price for their most sophisticated plan yet to work. "I think 30 kg."

"And you, Goten?"

"What's a mass? Is that something you eat?"

Trunks sighed in exasperation. Hearing this testimonial of the brat's horribly inferior intelligence, Vegeta rolled his eyes, but still focused himself on the show he found himself totally immersed in. Bulma just chuckled. "No, sweetie. Basically I was asking you how heavy you are."

Goten tilted his head to one side while trying to process Bulma's words. When it dawned on him, his eyes became wide as saucers. "Oh. Oooohhh! I get it now! Hee-hee. I'm 26 kg!" he remembered when his mother had put him on the scale two days before and delighted about how he'd grown so much.

"Good, so that makes the two of you 56 kg. Trunks, can I borrow your calculator?"

The little prince handed the gadget in his hand to his mother and gave Goten a knowing smile. They braced themselves for the best part of the show.

"So, let's see here… if you train in 100G, which corresponds to 981 metres per second squared, your weight would be…" she operated the calculator, multiplying 56 with 981 to get the result.

Of course, when Bulma hit the equal button, the calculator returned the correct result. But that wasn't what made her jump out of her skin; instead, she—and Vegeta, who promptly shifted his attention to the three chatterboxes at the embarrassingly familiar voice—skipped a heartbeat because of the calculator's ability to speak. At the same time the number 54,936 was displayed on the LCD, the calculator cried out loudly it caught the attention of a certain Namek on the Lookout, "IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAND!"

The female engineer fell unconscious onto the floor, foam forming on her mouth. The twin terrors laughed their heads off at their success and exchanged a high-five. Vegeta, however, was fuming. That phrase was supposed to have been lost in time, forgotten since antiquity, and he never expected to hear it ever again! This was embarrassing beyond belief! The Saiyan Prince loomed over the little imps who were still succumbing to a fit of laughter. Emotionally scarred, he boomed, "Brats, I'll have you know I'm currently watching a TV show I find very interesting. You have exactly ten seconds to decide whether you prefer to be punished that way or have the woman hit you with her frying pan when she regains consciousness."

Still laughing uncontrollably, Trunks and Goten glanced at the TV with much difficulty to see what Vegeta was talking about. They focused their attention just in time to see the presenters demonstrate what a Tree Tearer could do to the unfortunate condemned. This was enough to snap them out of their exhilaration; they looked at each other, gulped, and fixed their eyes on the prince.

"Well?" Vegeta smirked.

"Uh… hahaha, hi dad…" Trunks chuckled nervously. Neither one of the options seemed favourable for him.

"What do we do now, Trunks?" asked Goten. It looked like he wasn't too fond of being torn vertically into two or getting another scar on his head.

"We run."

Quick as a flash, the two darted out of the living room. Their escape left an afterimage of two boys scratching the back of their head while grinning sheepishly.

* * *

><p>"Trunks, what's the difference between weight and mass?" asked Goten, still curious about the physics-related term.<p>

"I'll tell you if we can survive," Trunks continued to pull his best friend's arm and gave his all to avoid the rampaging Vegeta, who had been hot on their tails, along Capsule Corp's convoluted hallways.


	2. Dawn Raid

_Author's Note: Hiya there. Sorry for taking so long to update this one, I was so engrossed in writing A Blessing That Never Was. But now that said story has been completed, I could once again focus on this one. Without further ado, let's—hopefully—have some fun with everyone's favourite pair of little outlaws!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT and its characters, the pranks, and PS Vita (I'd like to have it, though)._

* * *

><p>"Oww… my head still hurts," complained Goten. Bulma had bonked him in the head three times with her own version of the Frying Pan of Destruction. It seemed that if one managed to completely shave his hair he would be able to see three fresh scars amid countless others. The pain was accentuated by Trunks's explanation on the difference between weight and mass which confused him with all those technical terms, so he decided to let it go.<p>

His fellow malefactor, however, being the brains behind the felony as always, was lucky to get only five smacks. The not-so-pleased mother would be more than happy to give more than he could've taken had the unfortunate skillet, Frying Pan God bless its soul, not yielded that easily. She was extremely displeased at the toughness of Saiyan skulls—a remark thanks to which Bulma earned a smirk of pride from Vegeta—and as she herded the demons to Trunks's room she said she would consider having Kibito Kai provide her a skillet made of katcheen. Also, while at it, she might as well ask if she could have a whole set of katcheenware. Oh, that would be good! No more bent spoons, forks, and knives during dinner. She could finally Saiyan-proof her cutleries!

However, they were also subjected to the worst ordeal Saiyans could imagine: no dinner. It was worse—and would always be—than a fight until life's end, and every sane Saiyan would choose to die serving Frieza and then be wished back just to serve him again over being deprived of food any day. Why, even the almighty Saiyan Prince never failed to whimper at the prospect of his mate imposing this kind of punishment! Yes, such was the influence of food for Saiyans.

"We have to prevent mom from getting her hands on the katcheen," Trunks mumbled while trying to suppress his hunger and browsing through the internet simultaneously. He was looking for ideas with his trusted crony for their next grand entrance. "If she does, we're gonna have to deal with a Frying Pan of Apocalypse!"

With his stomach rumbling constantly and violently, Goten had no energy to think, and currently he wasn't quite fond of the idea of devising plans. "But how do we do that? I mean, doesn't Kibito Kai live somewhere very far away?"

"Hey, did you forget? He'll come to our New Year's Eve party tomorrow. We can tie him up on top of the flag pole, or drown him in the pool or something."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in the Sacred World…<p>

"Ah-choo! Ugh, where does this come fr—ah-choo!"

"Hmm? Well, Kindergarten Kai, as a ruler of the universe you have to take care of your health. Look at me. Despite my age, I'm as fit as a youth!" the Old Kai turned from a book he was reading so ardently—he was even flipping the pages back and forth—to his successor. Oh, he knew the ultimate panacea for every kind of illness known to living beings across the whole world and the Other. Quicker than lightning, an extraordinary feat for an over-seventy-five-million-year-old, he darted from his position to just beside the younger fused entity, offering him to read the book. "Here, let me show you my favourite! It'll make you feel better!"

Knowing exactly what was brewing in his ancestor's normally abnormal mind, Kibito Kai tried to politely decline the offer. "Uh… Dear Elder, sir, you really don't have to—"

"No buts! Now read, you'll like this!" said the grumpy greybeard as he started opening the pages in the dumbstruck Kai's face which soon assumed an excited look.

It was a book of medicinal herbs.

* * *

><p>"But what if your mom gets to him first?"<p>

"Hmm, dang it, you're right. Then we have—hey Goten, check this out!" Trunks exclaimed happily as though he had found a sunken galleon filled with treasures, "This kipkay guy has so many videos!"

"Oooohh! Lookie!" equally thrilled, Goten pointed at a video near the top of the list that caught his attention, "Stink Bomb Revenge! Looks fun! Click it, click it!"

They followed the link and watched the video, all thoughts about night hunger and embargoing katcheen conveniently flushed down the drain. As kipkay described how to make an extremely foul-smelling stink bomb the mini-demons took note of everything they would need. Trunks, as usual, had a devilish smirk forming on his face when the video ended, and he was more than ready to give this plan life.

"Gee, Trunks, he says it smells really rank," Goten, also as usual, had his own worry, "I wonder how bad it really is."

"I bet it's not as bad as Majin Buu's body odour," said Trunks jokingly, although it was enough to make the other child wrinkle his nose in utter disgust. When as Gotenks they were wrapped in said monster's torso, they could smell the highly obnoxious stench emanating from his sickly pink elastic body. "Ah, we'll find out. It's easy to make… and since the party's tomorrow night, mom must've bought some sparklers along with those huge fireworks."

"Where are they? Can we get them now?" asked Goten. As a young tyke the thoughts of something burning and exploding were more entertaining than everything else, excluding food, and he could hardly wait to lay his hands on all the fiery, explosive goodness.

"They're in the storeroom, but if we go there now mom will catch us. Let's go to bed now and wake up early so we can sneak in there before everybody notices."

"Okay! Wowee, there will be lots of boom-booms? This is exciting, Trunks!"

"Not only that, my friend. There will be boom-booms AND humiliation."

When Trunks finished his sentence in a very dramatic manner, the delinquent duo let out a fiendish cackle. Oh, how fun it was imagining all the repercussions of the fruits of their minds: the fun they were going to enjoy! The shame of their victims! The feeling of satisfaction! Eyes squinted in a roguish fashion, they exchanged a high-five, jumped into the queen-size spring bed, and drifted into their respective dream land.

* * *

><p>"Goten, wake up," the cerulean-eyed imp rocked his friend to prepare for their crazy antics. The sleepyhead raven-haired kid, however, just squirmed and hid himself under the quilt. "C'mon, Goten! We gotta get those sparklers before the others wake up!"<p>

No use. Trunks frowned but soon recalled the moment before fighting Majin Buu in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. That's it! It was a sure-fire—and perhaps the only—way to wake the Son boys up. He giggled, peeked under the quilt, and whispered at the jumbled mass of hair, "Hey, Goten, wake up. Breakfast's ready."

Sure enough, at the mention of the word 'breakfast', the boy who had been sleeping seconds ago suddenly shot up, wide awake, knocking Trunks over the edge. "Huh? Food? Where?" he whooped with so much glee, all traces of sleepiness missing from his face.

"Gee, what's the use of your ears?" Trunks mumbled loud enough for the other to hear, "You hear better with your stomach."

And so they commenced their raid. Stealthily but swiftly they navigated through the pitch-black hallways, avoiding the security bots patrolling important areas of the house and keeping their power level low enough to avoid detection by Vegeta, whose ability to sense energy was just too keen it was even functional in his sleep. They sneaked into the kitchen to snatch some items, rummaged through the recycle bin to gain enough amount of something, and finally scurried to the storeroom to secure the most crucial elements of their final mischief for the year: sparklers and fireworks. Mission accomplished! Holding all the items in their small hands, they carefully retreated to their basecamp which was the little prince's room.

"Alright, we're ready. Goten, run through the stuffs, will ya, pal?" requested Trunks to his brother-in-arms. He arranged the items nicely on the floor.

"Right!" replied the enthusiastic Goten as he followed suit and double-checked the materials that would soon be stink bombs. Sparklers: check. Scissors? He didn't remember seeing it in the video, but oh well. Perhaps it might come in handy. Check. Newspaper: check. Rubber band: check. Strike anywhere matches: a controlled and well-aimed energy blast ought to do the trick, so check. Hair? Now that was missing.

"Umm… we forget one thing, Trunks," he said with confusion daubed all over his face as he marked a cross next to the word "Hair" on his note, "Whose hair are we gonna use?"

"Yours, of course," Trunks gave him a strange look. Why did he have to ask the obvious? "Why do you ask?"

"No! No way! I'm not giving out my hair to be burned!" now realising what the pair of scissors were for, Goten stood up in protest, "Why don't we just use yours?"

"Dummy, if we use mine we'll be busted even before the fun starts. My hair is purple. They'll know we're up to something."

"But we're gonna hide the bomb, right? They won't see it."

"Just in case. Goten, this is no time to be arguing. We're using your hair, and that's that."

"Nuh-uh! Trunks, why is it always me who gets the bad part?"

Trunks thought hard for a moment, then an impish but sincere smile graced his lips. "It's not so bad if I give you a PS Vita for your little sacrifice, right?"

"Huh? But it's not out yet!" the little boy's eyes became wide open and his pupils dilated. Did he hear it right? Were his ears playing tricks on him? PS Vita?

"Mom sponsored its development with LOTS of money," Trunks made a wide arc with his outstretched arms to emphasise his point, "So, as thank-you gifts, they sent her two units. Since no one but me plays games over here, she said you can have the other one."

Goten suddenly brimmed with excitement. Being an avid gamer he was, he had been longing for said console ever since its announcement and would sell his soul to Babidi to get his hands on it before others did. And yet here he was, with his best friend, who not only had had said console in possession, but also was willing to give it for free! Technically speaking it wasn't free since he had to give up some strands of his precious, iconic spiky hair, but at least it would save him a shipload of time and effort to get his hands on one. Without much ado he agreed to Trunks's proposition and offered his head to him in a very solemn, ceremonious manner.

"Thy sacrifice hath been accepted…" Trunks's imitation of a shaman was so impeccable it amused Goten to no end. With the scissors Trunks navigated his hand around the younger halfling's surprisingly smooth crown of hair; how it formed a bizarre spiky pattern like that, not even the Old Kai knew. He searched for a perfect spot which would yield as many strands as possible when cut, but not so many Goten would notice. "Ah, there. This should do."

"Be careful, will ya?" warned the sacrificial lamb.

With a movement of the hand, accompanied by a swift shearing sound and a muffled yelp, the boys finally had all the necessary items for their stink bomb prank checked. Goten then turned around to receive further instructions from Trunks, but what he saw was a statue. Well, almost a statue; there stood his buddy, unmoving, his right hand—still holding the pair of scissors—suspending in the air, and his face having gone up several values in the lightness department.

"What's wrong, Trunks?" the younger jester tilted his head to the left and inquired curiously. Despite being almost completely frozen Trunks could actually manage a nervous, lopsided smile, and Goten could see his lips quiver and hear him producing funny chuckling sounds. Then it so happened that he looked at the floor, and as a result his face became even paler than Trunks's, perhaps as pale as the Kamikaze Ghosts themselves. The fact that his hair was scattered all over wasn't what shocked him; rather, he was appalled at the sheer amount of hair that had fallen to the floor.

"T-t-t-trunks… you d-don't…"

No answer. With as much courage and strength as he could muster, Goten limped to the wardrobe, opened the door, looked at his reflection in the mirror, and threw an energy ball and lunged at Trunks while screaming like a person desperately needing a good exorcism.


	3. Vegeta's Vengeful Vendetta

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT and its characters, YouTube, the pranks, and the liquid substance you'll read about later on._

* * *

><p>It took ten minutes of wrestling, one very sleepy but very irritated Bulma, another ten minutes of apology—"Hey, sorry, Goten! They'll grow back! And besides, we can make even more bombs now!"—from a very guilty Trunks, five bowls of chocolate cereal breakfast, three cartons of milk, and one PS Vita filled with games being given away to snap Goten out of his rampage and get him back to his cheerful mood. Trunks made a mental note to thank King Yemma for still allowing him to roam the land of the living.<p>

If one was to look at Goten face-to-face, he would have seen a playful face with messy black hair pointing into all directions. But such a sight was a thing of the past; the three long spikes that had been on the left side were now missing. Their absence left the poor boy with unusually huge spikes on the right side that gave a major impression of imbalance. Again, Bulma was nowhere near pleased with this, but with no frying pans to hit Trunks with, she was forced to whack his lilac mop-top with a tin saucepan. Needless to say, the poor utensil, Saucepan God bless its soul, gained a good dent after only one strike and was retired for life for not being able to fulfil its initial purpose anymore.

"C'mere, Goten," Trunks beckoned at the half-Saiyan who was watching Home Alone. He could've sworn those broadcasting companies had nothing else to show for their year-end special. Did they really expect people to watch this ages-old movie every year? Perhaps he should in the future propose a new script for a movie called Trunks and Goten: Home Alone. Oh, the thieves wouldn't leave the house alive to tell what befell them. "Let's run through our grand plan again," he said excitedly.

Goten, who was actually playing with his new game console instead of watching the TV, complied. He hovered toward the boy and took a seat just beside the boy who looked very comfortable in the couch. Trunks could barely manage to not laugh at the lopsided spikes of black hair he now sported, but he knew better than to enrage him again. If he did, he might not be as lucky to get a third chance. 'Man, look at that haircut. This is gonna need some getting used to,' he chuckled inwardly.

"You remember what we're supposed to do, right?" asked Trunks. He gained a fervent nod from his other half. "Good. Now repeat it, just to make sure you get it all right." He never forgot to keep this step in mind because the probability of Goten forgetting what he needed to do was usually high. It had happened in the past many, many times and most of the time they spelled trouble. Well, they would eventually get a good punishment anyway, but it was plain annoying if the trouble came before the laugh, and it really wasn't worth the effort.

Goten took a deep breath and started to recite their self-styled grand plan. The speed in which he did so was absolutely astonishing. "Yeah! We're gonna tie our bombs together with firecrackers, then when everyone looks up, we light the bombs and put them inside someone's back pocket! Then people will think he passes wind and when he gets embarrassed the firecrackers will explode in his pocket and his pants will catch fire!" After uttering that string of sentences in one breath, he began hyperventilating for air and the red hue he had gradually gathered on his face was slowly replaced by its original light peach complexion.

"Alright, Goten! Over nine thousand points for you!" Trunks was very glad Goten actually remembered everything verbatim. It was a good sign. "Now we're ready for some action!"

"So Trunks, who's our victim gonna be?"

"Hmm, I haven't thought of it yet."

"Huh? But what's the point of having these plans if we're not gonna pull it on anyone?

"Hey, don't worry, I know attend the party!" the brighter of the duo smiled triumphantly and handed the other a piece of paper. On it was a list with familiar names and phone numbers of the Z-fighters. "Here, these are the people mom has invited to the party."

Goten's eyes expanded to the size of his fist upon seeing the names scribbled on the paper and he began to screen the list for their potential target. "How about your dad?"

"We just made fun of him yesterday."

"Then Yamcha?"

"We've done that to him too many times and he always fell for it. No challenge, he's no fun!"

"True… what about Krillin? Or Auntie Eighteen?"

"It might work on Krillin, but if his wife knows we're toast."

"Hmm…"

"Hmm…"

And so began the brainstorming session which usually would take another one solid hour. However…

Unbeknownst to them, hidden behind the curtains was someone who wasn't fond of the idea of letting them live an easy life. Revenge was brewing in this particular man's mind, and he was about to teach those little devils that nobody, and he meant not even a single soul, makes fun of the almighty Prince of All Saiyans. Oh yes, they had absolutely no idea that carrying out that blasted misdeed the day before would cost them dearly. Thinking about the sheer humiliation those two were going to suffer, his eyes flashed a spark of maleficent glow. All he needed to do now was wait for the opportunity to present itself.

* * *

><p><em>What had taken place this morning? <em>

_Vegeta had trespassed into Trunks's room when the brats were busy in the living room with heaven knows what, intent on finding out where in the virtual world his spawn had found the embarrassing sound clip. The flame-haired Saiyan interrupted the screen saver mode—Trunks always left his computer powered on, which proved fatal this time—and opened the running internet browser application. He felt like flipping the table over when the sight of a paused YouTube video titled "Its Over 9000! [Original Video and Audio]" greeted him and sure enough, when he played it from the beginning, it re-enacted that moment when he inadvertently initiated a trend with that catchphrase. Those wretched brats! So this YouTube thing was their repository of embarrassing moments! And who on earth had that battle filmed? As far as he could recall he himself, Nappa, Kakarot, Gohan, and that bald guy Krillin had been the only ones alive at the time. The cameraman must be blown to kingdom come for this!_

_Before he could do that, though, his was intrigued by another tab saying "Revenge Stink Bomb!". He then opened the tab and watched the video half-heartedly, not really understanding how those two little gremlins took delight in these earthlings' idea of a joke. However, he began to think that since brute force could never bring the misdeeds carried out by those two to a halt, he had to do something using his brain… so, how about a good dose of abasement? That would be good. Oh, he was going to demonstrate that it was possible to fight fire with fire. He began to browse kipkay's channel for some inspiration, stumbled upon two particular videos titled "World's Best Stink Prank!" and a not so good one, and garnered a smirk on his face after watching them. Yes, combined together, these two little tricks would give his brat and that chum of his a good lesson not to mess with their prince. With that he left the computer in the state it had been before and blasted off through the window to obtain a certain liquid needed for his vendetta, one way or another._

* * *

><p>"Trunks Brief! Son Goten!" a female voice thundered from the PA system of Capsule Corp, startling the boys whose name had just been announced. The sheer force of the ensuing vibration shook everything that was not firmly fixed onto the floor. "It's almost eleven and you haven't had your shower? Get your sorry backs moving to the bathroom right now, and I believe I don't have to tell you what will happen otherwise!"<p>

"Uh-oh, Trunks, I think we're in trouble."

"Yeah. We better hurry."

The mischief makers needed not be told twice. Knowing too well the consequences that would follow if they decided to disobey, they darted toward the bathroom and arrived in record time as though they just performed an Instant Transmission. They stripped and threw their clothes on the floor, proceeded to enter a separate cubicle—Bulma had a second cubicle built ever since Goten started to have sleepovers at Capsule Corp—and had themselves a relaxing hot shower…

… which was not exactly nice, considering what was about to happen real soon.

The rumbling announcement was exactly the cue Vegeta needed to make his move. He quickly scurried into the kitchen, took two bars of chocolate out of the fridge, and microwaved them; the heat quickly turned the firm bars into brown paste. Before his mate could get into the bathroom vestibule to collect the kids' clothes to be laundered, he had already made his way there. The unsuspecting imps were still having a shower, and with Other-Worldly swiftness and efficiency he bestowed onto his plan a gift of life.

Disgusting as it might sound, Vegeta smeared a generous amount of the thick paste—which was visually unpleasant despite it was in reality two bars of 70% dark chocolate—on the inner side of the kids' boxers. He could barely contain his devilish snicker as he did so; however, his job needed one final step which was very crucial. He carefully took from his pocket a container of liquid labelled Liquid Rear, took the cap off, and sprayed the liquid on the paste. Oh, how the odious smell burnt his sensitive Saiyan nose! The video owner was correct in describing the smell as 'like somebody's grandmother's rear'! But that didn't matter now. After he arranged the boxers and placed it as though Trunks and Goten had been trying to hide it from Bulma, he shiftily made his way from the crime scene to the living room to get the much-needed break from his training session earlier on.

On her way to collect Trunks's and Goten's clothes, Bulma came across her mate who somehow looked extremely proud of something. Maybe he was having a good day? After a quick "hi honey" which he conveniently replied with a low grunt, she continued walking toward the bathroom. When she opened the door she could hear the boys talking gibberish to each other, something she couldn't make sense of. She noticed the clothes strewn all over the floor, but the two pairs of underpants that should have been there were nowhere to be found.

She sighed in exasperation at the sight. "Trunks, Goten, how many times do I have to tell you to arrange your clothes nicely?" It seemed their skulls were impermeable to her words. As she continued to look for that missing piece of clothing she could hear the boys shout a "sorry!" in unison. Now where on earth were those… wait. What was this smell she just noticed?

She winced at the pungent, unpleasant odour which reminded her of something only found inside the toilet bowl or the cesspool. It was revolting beyond belief! What did those two eat for breakfast? Rotten eggs? "Trunks! Did you flush?"

"Huh? No, mom. I didn't even use the toilet," confusion was noticeable in the voice coming from the right cubicle.

"Goten, I really hope it wasn't you," she said to the left cubicle.

"I didn't use the toilet either, Auntie Bulma," came the nonchalant reply.

Of course the female engineer wouldn't buy it. Those confounded elves had done too much for her to believe right away. She didn't want to, but really had no choice to follow the smell and see what and where the source could be. It led her straight to the toilet cubicle; Bulma opened the door and checked the toilet to check if what she feared was true… nothing. The porcelain throne was as clean and pure as a heart of Nimbus rider, so where was this smell originating from?

Although she was extremely disgusted by the displeasing aroma, she trusted her olfactory sense to guide her to its source. She looked around, checked every corner of the room, and could barely contain her irritation upon seeing two pairs of boxers being hidden behind the toilet. Why would the kids hide them? However, it didn't take a genius—although to say that Bulma wasn't a genius was wrong in every sense—to figure out why; she quickly put two on two together and the puzzle was finally complete. Hands trembling, she picked up the boxers to confirm her suspicions…

… and let out an ear-splitting shriek when she saw something sticking to the inner side. Hearing the scream, Trunks and Goten rushed out of their respective cubicles, towel wrapped around the waist.

"Mom, what's wrong?" asked a very surprised Trunks.

"Yeah! Where's that naughty cockroach? I'll beat that villain!" Goten pumped his fists in excitement.

The mother, however, was less than pleased after all the trouble she had gone through just to find two pairs of soiled undergarment. Her right hand pinching her nose, she held the offending sight in front of the boys' face with her left. "You two explain this RIGHT NOW!"

"W-what's that?" the tan kid gasped, his eyes wide in disbelief, "Mom, I didn't do it!"

Not wanting to find out what this noxious odour could do to his health, the younger of the two covered his nose in disgust. "Eeewww! Smells bad!"

Then began a chain of overly long lecture.

* * *

><p>Hearing a scream echo through the hallways followed by two children's futile arguments to save their face, Vegeta let out a demonic laugh. His vendetta now fulfilled, he leaned back on the couch and gloated over the malicious imps' misfortune and his self-claimed ability to fight fire with fire. The earthlings were true in their sayings; vengeance was indeed sweet. Oh, what a way to end the year!<p>

"If it's humiliation you want, then it's humiliation you get," the almighty Prince of All Saiyans mumbled to himself haughtily, a usual smirk gracing his lips.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Nothing much, but I had to replace something to comply with the K+ rating. There was something called Liquid Rear; it's not its real name. As you may have guessed the product name is originally something a bit more vulgar than that, so I had to censor it. Hehe. You know what I mean.<em>


	4. Showdown of the Year

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT and its characters._

* * *

><p>"Man, this is impossible!" growled Trunks as he punched a hole through his pillow. The embarrassing incident earlier had made him very angry.<p>

"I-I didn't—_sniff_—I didn't do it!" Goten started crying. He didn't like being accused of something he hadn't done, not one bit! "I'm not a—_sniff_—a li-little kid anymore! WAAAAHHH!"

His best friend, already very frustrated, snapped, "Stop crying, Goten! We'll get them for sure!"

"Huh? Wh-what do—_sniff_—what do you mean, Trunks?"

"Look. I dunno who dared to do that…" he began. At first he suspected Vegeta had done that, but knowing that his father couldn't care less about earthlings' way of entertainment, Trunks shoved his suspicion away. Vegeta was one lucky guy. "But I'm sure that guy will attend the party later."

Goten caught Trunks's flow, and at this point he was no longer in tears. "You mean…"

"That's right, Goten. We're gonna get them all," he said. A very Vegeta-ish smirk formed on his face. "Forget about the little firecrackers, we're gonna use lots of rockets!"

"Cool, rockets! What's your plan, Trunks? C'mon, tell me!"

"Well, listen carefully…"

As Trunks explained his so-called tweaked grand plan to his co-conspirator, the latter's eyes began to dilate. Just like when they were planning their Hacked Calculator Prank, they giggled insanely when Trunks concluded. With a very devilish smile and nefarious gleam in their eyes, the roguish Saiyan hybrids shook hands with one another.

"Heh heh. Whoever did that stupid thing to us is gonna pay."

"Yeah! And that big dummy's gonna pay dearly!"

* * *

><p>By the time the clock struck nine, people had gathered at Capsule Corp with their best apparel, making the backyard more colourful than Goku and Vegeta's rainbow-coloured glittery sphere attack when they fused. Goten was in his—and Chichi's; it was her who had asked him to bring it along for his stayover so he could wear it to the party—favourite blue and light purple changshan, while Trunks, not really fond of stiff attire, had put on his green hoodie and blue bermuda shorts. Everybody was complimenting each other's outfit except Piccolo and Vegeta, of course. For the latter, being coerced into attending this party had been more than a waste of time, much less mingling around with other people he didn't really want to be around with. Knowing him, he would rather spend his entire New Year's Eve inside the gravity room than attend this party which according to him was pointless.<p>

Although the backyard was minimally decorated, one wouldn't be able to simply ignore the lively atmosphere and not get absorbed in it. Bulma had hired a DJ for the event, two pool tables had been placed, people were watching an epic game of poker between Eighteen, Dende, Master Roshi, Old Kai, and Chichi, and a long buffet table brimming with enough food to satisfy more than ten hungry Saiyans had been set up in the middle of the lawn. All in all, Capsule Corp was in stark contrast to its white, bleak, and snowy surroundings, and everything was normal and going smoothly according to plan.

But of course, there were these two runts to whom 'normal' was synonymous with 'boring', and to be despicable spoilsports was their way of life. Unbeknownst to the others, the double troublemakers benefitted from their enthusiastic excitement of the lively party; they took this golden opportunity to have their grand plan prepared. When nobody was looking, they sneaked beneath the buffet table and arranged everything according to their design.

"Alright, we're done. Now we just gotta wait," said Trunks. He was extremely satisfied for how fast they could carry out the preparations.

"How long? How long?" Goten, couldn't wait to breathe life into their plan, was already overflowing with anticipation.

Trunks began to make a quick calculation in his head. He had to make sure to time everything correctly for their ultimate prank to produce the maximal gusto. "Hmm… let's play with the others to avoid suspicion. We'll hide again when it's a quarter to twelve."

And so they proceeded to mingle around, but the idea of food was more appealing. It was a buffet table after all; everyone could have a bite whenever they felt like to. Hmm… they delighted at the fatty bacons, succulent steaks, perfectly grilled satays, fresh fruits, and sweet desserts. They had to stock themselves before their plan was executed, because there would be no more food after that.

Time passed and it was time for the others to gather around the buffet table, ready with bottles of champagne and party poppers. In just a few minutes a new day would begin, the year would change, and their lives would take another turn of the page. Everybody was singing Auld Lang Syne when Gohan noticed something wrong.

"Hey Videl, have you seen Goten and Trunks?" he asked his girlfriend.

Videl took a look around but couldn't see them and shook her head. "Hmm, nope. I guess they're playing video games in Trunks's room… but they were with us just a few moments ago, right?"

Goku, overhearing the conversation, just tapped his son's shoulder. Why so gloomy when everyone was having a good time? "Don't worry, they may just be playing somewhere. They do it all the time," he said nonchalantly.

"But dad, that's exactly why we have to start worrying. You have no idea what those two are capable of," said Gohan in a very gloomy tone, "There's no stopping them once they've started. Things are guaranteed to go downhill and the results can be extremely frightening. They're horrible plotters, those two little hobgoblins… they're the Frieza and Cell of us Z-fighters!" Having said that, he began to think that said villains had been lucky the demolition duo hadn't been there during their battles, or else they would've lost every ounce of their sanity—not that the OCD-afflicted Cell had one to begin with, anyway.

Meanwhile, in a hidden space very, very near to the joyful Z-fighters, the lost boys were more than ready to exhibit their work of art. Not wanting to inhale the allegedly repugnant stink of their bombs, Trunks passed a gas mask to Goten and proceeded to put another one on his face. Then, when Bulma was making her speech about how things had happened this year, the mini-demons gave each other the thumbs up and began igniting their stink bombs with weak energy balls.

"So, with this year nearly ending, I would like to thank all—_sniff sniff_—eww! What's this smell?"

Seeing the bluish green-haired lady get distracted all of a sudden, the others looked around to see if anything was off, then wrinkled their nose when they noticed the unbelievably unpleasant stench. Needless to say, chaos ensued not long after.

"Whoa! Did somebody step on animal dung?"

"Someone must have eaten grilled bats and passed gas…"

"Gohan! You know better than to break wind in front of people!"

"Mom, I didn't… oh gosh, this is too much. Buu, turn this chair into air freshener now!"

"Mama! Mama! Marron wanna go home!"

"Krillin, stop acting like a fool! You can't smell it, you don't have a nose!"

"My Dear Elder! Hang in there! Oh no, he's out cold…"

"My nose is burning! Piccolo even turns green!"

"This is the way I am. But somebody find the source of this nauseating smell!"

Oh, how the twin terrors rejoiced at the reactions of their victims! They peeked out from behind the tablecloth and giggled insanely at the commotion they had caused. The sight of Fat Buu chugging the frangipani-scented aerosol he had made out of a chair and emitting fragrant steam from his orifices was just plain hilarious! However, the reeking fume proved to be too strong for their masks to handle, and being completely engulfed in it was slowly taking its toll on them.

"Gee, Trunks. I can still smell the bombs. They must be really bad!" Goten complained. His light peach face was slowly assuming a sickly shade of green.

"Bleargh! This is even worse than Majin Buu's body odour!" whispered Trunks. It took everything in him not to throw up inside his mask. "Hang in there just a little bit more, Goten."

And downhill went things, just like Gohan said. Everybody was either struggling for fresh air or lying on the ground in a bout of seizure, but a certain person in pink Badman shirt managed to keep his composure although it took everything in him to do so. In Vegeta's mind this situation was unnervingly familiar; he could've sworn he had seen or experienced something like this before, but where? He tried as hard as he could to remember, but with this highly foul smell wafting in the air it was extremely difficult just to concentrate.

"T-trunks… I can't hold on much longer…"

"Goten! Hang in there! They're gonna burst!"

All of a sudden, a series of loud popping sounds, just like a full-automatic assault rifle being fired by a trigger-happy soldier, thundered from under the banquet table, startling those who were either steadfast or foolhardy enough to stand the crazy aroma from earlier and knocking those who were already on the verge of insanity unconscious. In the middle of this hysteria, everything began to register in Vegeta's mind. Quickly he put two and two together as his memory skimmed through the videos he had watched in Trunks's computer. Emission of a rank smell followed by a little surprise at the end… that's it! The Stink Bomb Revenge!

"No! Those brats!" growled the Saiyan Prince as he squatted down and unveiled the tablecloth which draped all the way down from the edge of the buffet table. He had expected a stink bomb in flames just like what the video had shown, but the complexity of the fruits of those little jokers' twisted collective mind never failed to dumbfound even the most prepared of people. There wasn't a single stink bomb in flames under the table; rather, there were Trunks and Goten, each donning an intimidating gas mask, hovering above MANY stink bombs in flames strategically placed near the wicks of countless rocket-type fireworks. And what would happen to a wick placed near fire? It would light up. In this case, the wicks had lit up.

"Okay, Goten! Here comes the big one!"

"Fin-_blurp_-finally! Let's go!"

"Why, you…! EVERYBODY GET—"

Vegeta was two seconds late. All the rockets had already been engaged and an instant later, exactly at the stroke of midnight, they—along with Trunks and Goten who cried "Happy new year! Ah, fresh air!" for the world to hear—burst out from beneath the table, flipping it over in the process. Plates took flight in fright, bowls sprung in surprise, plastic cutleries and cups jumped for joy, and various kinds of food and cakes were flung into the air before landing unceremoniously on some unfortunate people's face, including those who were unconscious. Poor Marron had a bowl of caramel pudding on her head; her mother couldn't conjure an Android Barrier quick enough to shield her from the raining hazards.

Looking down from high in the sky, the destructive duo watched the brilliant display of light created by the exploding rockets. They exchanged a high-five and danced in glee for the success of their grand plan which had been subjected to major tweaking, then blasted through the cold night sky while twirling around each other, intent on destroying other poor, unfortunate souls' New Year Celebration. Alas, they forgot about the magnificent ability of a certain someone; they were stopped dead in their tracks when said person suddenly appeared out of thin air in front of them.

With a glare which was somewhat toned down by two slices of cheesecake clinging on his hair, he said, "Playtime's over."

The two terrified little urchins gulped in unison. "Uh-oh."

With almost superluminal speed Goku scooped them both with one hand and translocated back to Capsule Corp.

* * *

><p>"Oh well. At least we had fun, huh Goten?"<p>

"That was cool! But I think we forgot something."

"What is it?"

"Tying up Kibito Kai on top of the flag pole, or drown him in the pool or something."

"I know. But that's okay, it's worth it, right?"

"Yeah! Let's do it again sometime, Trunks!"

"Alright, time's up," a teenager's voice interjected. Gohan was standing in front of them, sporting a sly, malicious smile. "It's time for us to have fun."

They had no regrets. Their grand plan proved to be a huge marvel—at least for them—and they were successful in closing the year with a blast, literally. As they finished their conversation everyone present in the party, each wielding Cooking Utensils of Apocalypse—frying pans, barbecue grills, saucepans, and woks made of genuine, high-quality katcheen imported straight from the Sacred World itself—Kibito Kai had materialised for them earlier, marched one by one toward the two helpless tykes tied together to a tree, who each donned a satisfied smile. Yup, for them, the trouble they had gone through and this punishment they were about to take were all worth it.

"Hey, Goten. In case we don't survive, I wanna tell you something."

"What is it, Trunks?"

"Happy new year. It's been a pleasure knowing you."

"Happy new year, Trunks. I'm glad to know you, too."

Trunks and Goten had to agree that it had been a very good year all along. If they survived this onslaught, they would make sure that the following year would be even better for them and even worse for others. Yup, those sadistic little angel-faced fiends would stop at nothing to hone their skills in practical jokes. As long as they were alive and well, there was zero chance of escaping their antics, and they would be restless until they have pulled what they dubbed "Our Perfect Pranks" successfully.

Readers, for your own good, exercise extreme caution. Chances are that Trunks and Goten somehow escaped—or at least survived—their punishment, and at this moment they might be lurking in the shadows in your house, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make their move and pull their Other-Worldly pranks on you. Be alert, and be safe!


End file.
